


Not Yet

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: General, War of the Ring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 21:08:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3743594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tolkien tells us there were two elves named Legolas and both lived as contemporaries of Glorfindel of Gondolin, along with one Galdor, Lord of the House of the Tree. Eventually, the trio ended up in Imladris at the Council of Elrond. Legolas of Gondolin was famed for his exceptional night vision and his part in helping the escape of Tuor, Idril, Eärendil and the refugees of Gondolin as Melkor's forces burned the city and slaughtered her people. Not much said other than that. Legolas of Mirkwood was called the eyes and ears of the fellowship. This little fic plays with these ideas. It is fanfiction, so please forgive the liberties taken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Yet

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

**Not Yet**  
  
By erobey

_Italics indicate thoughts._   


* * *

  
"What do you think? It is he, after all this time! I had begun to despair!"  
  
"Nay, it is not. Does not look anything at all like him."  
  
"Ai! You are wrong, there is a strong resemblance, and Galdor you are only looking on the outside. Just gaze into those eyes and you will see. Why, even the timbre of his voice is as I remember it."  
  
"Valar! Your memories are quite distorted then, Glorfindel! I tell you it cannot be him. Just because he is a Wood Elf does not mean anything but that: he is a silvan nothing more."  
  
"I do not understand your resistance to the idea. He has Sindar blood also and comes from a royal house."  
  
"And I do not comprehend your foolhardy insistence! Glorfindel, you are just setting yourself up for a tremendous disappointment. So he is a Sinda, or half anyway, a 'prince' of the trees, and bears a legendary name; that does not make him your Legolas. Let go of this obsession before you find yourself heartbroken and end up a guest of Namo once more."  
  
The two veterans of Gondolin were standing on one of the many white-marble banistered balconies adorning the sumptuously appointed abode of Elrond Peredhel in the hidden vale of Imladris. The pair had just exited a council of monumental proportions and the whole story of the Ring and its passage through time and history had been revealed. As soon as the envoy from Thranduil's court had begun to tell his part in the saga, the Balrog Slayer had been intrigued to say the least.  
  
Now the First Age elves discussed this Third Age silvan warrior, yet not. They referred to times so long past that the tales sung about them were far removed from the gruesome reality the two had known, portraying only the romantic valour of the Noldolie. They spoke of an elf long faded from recall except in those very songs, and mentioned but briefly therein. But to those that had been Legolas' friends during the days of glory that once marked Turgon's hidden kingdom and the harrowing times that succeeded them, he was as vivid and real as any elda could be.  
  
Could these two namesakes, divided by such a long span of years, be one and the same?  
  
Glorfindel sighed dejectedly. He knew he should hearken to Galdor's words, for the noble elf was Lord of the House of the Tree back in those ancient times when the might of Gondolin was great. He was a kinsman of Legolas of Gondolin: he would surely know if this were his cousin reborn. Yet the Lord of the Golden Flower could not help himself. As soon as he had seen the Wood Elf walk into the room his heart had leaped as if in recognition.  
  
Of course, it may have been bounding for sheer delight in the comely appearance of the silvan archer.  
  
So what if the hair was fine and wispy yellow, more like his own than the rich burnished copper he remembered his lover possessing. And if the elf was an archer now rather than a master of club and staff, it mattered little. His new home was in the forest of Mirkwood; only an expert with the bow could survive there. Those were paltry variations on a theme that fit both elves: valiant warrior, protector of his people and his lands, fair in a way that was rare even among elfkind.  
 _  
Are the eyes not the reflection of the feä? Are not those immutable deeps of cobalt exactly the same shade as were my Legolas'? Did not his gaze pierce to the heart of everyone he examined during the council? Aye, and the way he phrased his words, the passion in his voice, the regret and proud desire to amend his mistake over losing the Gollum creature; all those are surely characteristics of my Legolas_.  
  
Before he could resume his defence of his ideas and inform Galdor of these parallels, the pair were startled to see the blond haired woodland warrior silently glide past their spot on the porch. He stopped briefly to acknowledge their presence with a deep and respectful bow but did not seek to speak to them, continuing on his way with a determined step. Glorfindel shared a concerned expression with his equally worried friend.  
  
"Do you suppose he overheard us?" he asked.  
  
"I do not think so," Galdor frowned and stared in the direction the young emissary from Thranduil's lands had taken. "But then I did not hear him approaching so he may have been there some time or none at all!"  
  
He was upset over this unfortunate coincidence and the effect it was already having on Glorfindel. There was much Galdor had withheld from the Balrog Slayer about events after his untimely end. It had been hard enough to recount to the reborn elda that his lover had perished just prior to the mighty warrior's return from Mandos' Keeping. The disappointment on the golden-haired elf's face upon hearing this was too reminiscent of the pained anguish that had become a permanent component of Legolas' eyes. He had not explained the despair into which Legolas had fallen.  
  
Instead, Galdor had reassured Glorfindel often that certainly the Valar would return their Legolas to him and not force the pair to endure further torment by lengthy separation, for they had loved one another fiercely as contemporaries in Gondolin. And surely the service each had rendered in valorous combat against the darkness of Melkor and his evil apostle was sufficient to warrant a quick return to bodily form and life upon Middle-earth. These same empty promises the Lord of the House of the Tree had used to renew Legolas' failing hopes through the Ages that had followed Glorfindel's demise.  
  
He detested lying to Glorfindel, but knew not how to break such devastating news. Legolas of Gondolin had not died fighting Sauron in Eregion, as Galdor had told anyone that would listen. Galdor had stopped the elf from suicide more than once over the centuries of lonely heartache endured after the death of his lover.  
  
The desolate elda had finally succumbed to his grief and drowned himself in the sea, since he was not able to return to the place where Glorfindel's body lay and end his existence there. Galdor did not know if his kinsman would ever be healed, so shattered was the elf's soul at the end. He could not bear to tell the worthy Vanyarin warrior that he might have to wait until the world changed before ever meeting Legolas again.  
  
"Glorfindel, if it were him, surely he would have spoken and announced himself to you," Galdor tried the logical approach.  
  
"My old friend, I know you mean to protect me from hurt, but I assure you that is not necessarily true. It was long before I recalled my first life; it took many centuries in Aman with my parents to cure me of the harm my soul had taken. So it is with Legolas now," replied Glorfindel confidently.  
  
"Then what is to be done, if he knows you not and holds no memories of your love for him or his for you? Is that not the same as being a different elf, not your Legolas at all?"  
  
Glorfindel was silent many minutes then, considering this dilemma. Yet he was determined to know whether this was his love or not lest the chance pass him by and someone else claim the young elf's heart before his memories returned. That idea shocked him into a loud exclamation of dismay.  
  
"Oh Valar! What if he has already declared himself? He is beautiful after all and of royal bloodlines, many must desire him. Ai, Galdor, that I could not bear!"  
  
"Aye, it is a possibility. Yet he is not bound for there is nothing but innocence in those eyes and no rings of gold or mithril on his hands." Galdor sighed heavily. He could see that nothing would deter his friend of two lifetimes from his goal.  
  
That being the case, he decided to help, thus to be there when the reality was exposed and Glorfindel must suffer yet again. "If I cannot convince you to give up this folly then let us remove any doubt from your mind. We must devise a means to test our opposing theories and in the process discover what we may about this Thranduilion. In fact, for the sake of your heart, that is how you should call him until you learn the truth."  
  
Glorfindel nodded as he heard these words. "Your counsel is wise and I shall heed it. Thank you for aiding me in this for there is none other I could trust. You knew him better than I, in some sense, for longer were the centuries he shared at your side. What might we do to determine his identity?"  
  
"Elrond has spoken of sending out scouting parties to determine the whereabouts of the Nazgûl after their scattering at the ford upon your timely return with the Hobbit. I suggest we volunteer for one of these missions and request the Wood Elf as our third. We shall thus be able to observe his skills and learn of his character."  
  
Glorfindel found this both practical and noteworthy for the opportunity the closeness of such a mission must engender. He would learn all there was to know of this son of Thranduil ere they completed their reconnoitre of the terrain. Eagerly he accompanied Galdor to Elrond's study to outline their plan.  
  
"Hear me," the Lord of Imladris spoke in stern tones of disapproving doubt. "This is an extremely delicate matter you propose! More than your own feelings are at stake, Glorfindel. I cannot allow you to offend the son of the Wood Elves' King. This subterfuge is not acceptable to my mind. You must voice your hopes honestly and gauge his response as you will. The elf must not be misled into a false friendship only to be abandoned if you find him not to be the reborn lover you pine for."  
  
"Nay, never would I turn away a friend of worth, just because of a given name! Yet I would not have him feel the pressure of that name and what it means to me. If he is the one I seek, then it will be well to let him come to the realisation in his own manner. Should he prove only a namesake, I would not wish to lose a trusty ally due to discomfort over this unusual parallel," argued Glorfindel.  
  
Elrond scowled and drummed his fingers on the surface of the windowsill before which he stood, glaring upon a landscape he could not perceive. "What say you, Galdor; is this your kinsman returned to life?"  
  
"Elrond, I truly do not know."  
  
"What does your instinct tell you. I have ever trusted your intuition and in this you are best qualified to resolve the puzzle."  
  
"I protest that, Lord!" huffed Glorfindel. "I was Legolas' beloved while Galdor was merely his captain and his cousin. Are not my feelings more pertinent to this situation?"  
  
"Perhaps, yet the very intensity of your desire may but cloud your perception, causing you to find similarities that in truth do not exist," cautioned Galdor. "We must stick to searching for the singular characteristics our Legolas possessed that were known to all who met him even briefly."  
  
"Aye, that would be best," cautioned Elrond. "Glorfindel, I am concerned whether or not you can abide by these terms. Can you let the matter go if these traits are not noted in the woodland prince?"  
  
"I can, Elrond. I assure you I will not profess undying love to the wrong elf!"  
  
With this promise but much misgiving, Elrond demurred. There remained only to make a formal request to the son of Thranduil. Given his vehement dismay over failing in Mithrandir's trust, none doubted that he would accept the task, and thus it proved.  
  
Legolas had been surprised and pleased for Elrond to ask him to join the scouting parties, and assumed it was for his familiarity with both the wilderlands around Mirkwood and the Wraiths. The Wood Elf had agreed immediately and was amazed to learn who would be his comrades. It was a high honour to be so chosen and this made the son of Thranduil much more comfortable as to the Noldor's opinion of him.  
  
Legolas also hoped that Elrond had enlisted these noble Lords to evaluate his worthiness to become part of the great expedition to unmake the Ring. He had already stated emphatically, but privately, to the Lord of Imladris that his father had charged him to right his error and restore the Wood Elves' honour besmirched by his failure. It was imperative that he join the quest to destroy this dread talisman of evil.  
  
But secretly his motives were more than confused, for Legolas had indeed overheard part of the conversation between the noble elves of Gondolin. Not that this was on purpose of course, but the Wood Elf had been gifted with particularly acute hearing and little escaped his auditory perception, unless he was singing or practising with his bow.  
  
Now Legolas had caught just the tail of their speech, only Glorfindel's reference to his royal blood and Galdor's rather strong rebuttal. The reference to a 'legendary name' perplexed him, but he decided Galdor must have been speaking of his father. He had studied a little of the history of Gondolin and knew about Glorfindel and the Balrog, as indeed even humans did. He was, however, completely ignorant regarding the existence of another elf named Legolas in that flight across the mountains and so did not grasp what the elves were discussing. He had heard enough to fathom that Glorfindel found him of interest while Galdor meant to dissuade him from the attraction. This contention the young elf found quite unsettling in an exciting sort of way.  
  
No one had ever referred to him in such a wholly possessive sense before.  
  
Unable to sleep or even rest for the excitement the adventure promised, Legolas had spent the evening's hours studying the maps of the lands thereabout, making certain of a goodly supply of arrows for his quiver, and seeing to the provisioning of their mission, having been assigned that chore among the group. These things done he had still been unable to calm his restlessness and had roamed the woods about Elrond's house, adding his own notes to the melody of nightingales by the river's edge.  
  
Just before first light he had returned and made ready the horses and then simply awaited the great Lords' attendance. In fact he had been aware of their approach for some minutes before they spied him in the yard and had watched them intently, for they were fair to see and he felt anew the surge of pride to be among them.  
  
And perhaps a slight tingling of anticipation to find out exactly what it meant to be Glorfindel's Legolas.  
  
And so on a fine crispy autumn dawning on the twenty-sixth day of October the two refugees from Gondolin made there way from the Last Homely House only to find the Wood Elf patiently waiting for them by the gates of the courtyard. They halted on seeing him there ahead of them. They could not help but be astounded by the beauty of the youth standing utterly still upon the path, speaking quietly to his horse and simultaneously singing so softly that the music of his voice might have been the mixing of wind and water at the court of the Fountain in the City of the Singing Stones.  
  
He was shining, not as the glinting rays of Anor that crept above the horizon, but as a beacon bright upon a blighted shore, offering hope, solace, and encouragement all at once. As if he wore his soul on the outside of his skin for armour, a brilliant spirit, unconquerable. Legolas of the Woodland Realm personified everything that was light and goodness, joy and majesty, the living antithesis of the Shadow steadily creeping upon the world.  
  
Legolas, however, did not perceive this about himself anymore than he could see the colour of his eyes or judge the quality of his voice. He smiled and did not end his song when he saw them, for it was his wont to express his heart so whenever he was overwhelmed with feeling and in truth thought this was a better means of communication than spoken word in many cases. He was rather nervous to be accompanying such noble and famous people among his folk, and did not wish to make any inappropriate remarks or show his callowness and lose their respect.  
  
Besides, he found that singing was the only sure way to keep from hearing all the very most private thoughts, and other sounds, anyone might choose to utter within the Last Homely House.  
  
Legolas approached them, bowing low, and still the tune filled the air about him like the refreshing breath of a breeze on a summer's day.  
  
"Aur maer (Good Morning), Thranduilion!" called Glorfindel as his eyes ran the course of the youth's form from top to toes in a swiftly sweeping glance of open appreciation. He chuckled to see colour rise in the elf's face at this scrutiny. The gentle song faltered and died away.  
  
"And to you both, Lords Glorfindel and Galdor," said Legolas solemnly and before he quite realised it found that he was bowing again. This only made his blush deepen, but since he was unable to hide it he gave them both a rather rueful grin and sprang upon his horse. He was quite certain that Galdor had elbowed Glorfindel and whispered for him to stop ogling.  
  
"Please, we need not stand on formalities," the Lord of the Tree spoke kindly as he also mounted. "I am sure you would find it tiresome for us to call you 'Your Highness'. Galdor is fine for me, there is plain old Glorfindel on that fine black charger, and you we shall call Thranduilion, in honour of your royal estate."  
  
"I am not plain!" denied the Balrog Slayer.  
  
"Nay, indeed not!" echoed Legolas. His eyes widened enormously as he realised how that must have sounded and he blundered on in a feeble attempt to mediate the bold remark. "My Lords, this seems highly inappropriate to me, for I certainly owe more deference to you both and my father is rather unhappy with me at the moment and not at all sure he wants to keep me." _Ai Valar! I should have kept singing_!  
  
"Nonsense!" Galdor waved his hand before him; succinctly indicating he would not be overruled. "It shall be as I have said. If you wish to defer then do so by permitting me this little foible, Thranduilion."  
  
Legolas was afraid to say anything more to this and barely prevented himself from bowing again, on horseback no less, transforming the urge into a simple nod of acquiescence just in time.  
  
And with that inauspicious beginning the three scouts thundered out of the gates and down to the ford and finally beyond the boundaries of the fair valley. It is debatable whether, at that particular moment, any among the three recalled what the mission was about.  
  
The two elders rode abreast and quietly conversed, discussing finer points of the tale of the Ring and arguing over the timing of Saruman's betrayal and how best to counter it. Legolas followed, humming now and then, listening to every word of wisdom that fell from their lips.  
  
And admiring how magnificent Glorfindel looked, with his golden hair streaming out behind him.  
  
For the entire day they pushed their horses for speed, going south and west following the course of the Bruinen for several leagues and this surprised Legolas, who had thought they were to go to Mirkwood and beyond. But then abruptly at dusk the Gondolindrim (elves of Gondolin) turned from the track and placed the Hithaeglir before them, heading steadily for the forbidding peaks. The Wood Elf recognised they sought to cross over and make for the Gladden Fields, from there he could surmise their destination to be Dol Guldur and cold dread quelled his eager spirit.  
  
Daylight fled quickly and left a low and sable sky, overcast with heavy clouds that were contrarily pale, and still the elves continued. The horses were stumbling and the pace was now a mincing walk rather than a mile-eating canter, and Legolas feared his stallion would injure his legs on the loose stones or inadvertently step into a gopher hole and be lamed.  
  
Yet how could he challenge the purpose of these elders? _They must know of some danger nearby that precludes a stop_. Legolas strained his senses to try and determine if this might be so and found nothing out of the ordinary. Suddenly Glorfindel and Galdor pulled up and Legolas halted beside them.  
  
The elf Lords exchanged glances of serious mien. This was to be the first challenge of their youthful friend's true identity.  
  
"Thranduilion, take the lead and ride ahead, that our progress might be quicker," commanded Galdor with a slight smile.  
  
"My L…that is, Galdor, I fear I would not be of use in that regard. Ithil is shrouded; there is not enough light to see the way, and we have not travelled by road for many hours now," Legolas said incredulously. "I would ask if it is not best to desist until dawn, at least to spare our mounts from harm? Unless there is great need for such haste, of course," he cautiously added.  
  
"Ah, so I thought," murmured Galdor. "What say you to that, Glorfindel?"  
  
"I would say that night vision is rare, and thus the timing of its development unknown. For instance, many traits, such as one's height, do not reach fruition until the advent of sexual maturity, and other skills, such as archery or harp playing, may lie dormant if undiscovered," the Balrog Slayer pondered, but his tone held sadness beneath its defiance.  
  
"Rare, perhaps, but noted from a very early age, I assure you," argued Galdor. "It is both an inborn quality and a talent that strengthens with practice."  
  
"Forgive me, but I do not understand," said Legolas.  
  
"It is nothing, Thranduilion, merely that Glorfindel was under the impression that you possessed this gift of seeing in darkness," answered Galdor. "Let us halt until minuial (dawn), then, as you do not seem to have this unique capability."  
  
Now Legolas sensed at once the change in mood and was disturbed. He did not know why Glorfindel expected him to have such a trait, for as far as he was aware no Wood Elf did. Even more, he was confused as to why his lack of this gift caused the reborn warrior to draw away from him. It appeared that Glorfindel was angry over this deficiency.  
  
Out of respect for their age and renown, Legolas took it upon himself to set up their camp and start a small fire. Once the tasks were done he sat near them and looked from one to the other. Both were deep in thought and presented completely closed expressions.  
  
"I know little of Turgon's kingdom other than its sorrowful ending. What was Gondolin like?" he asked, hoping to distract his comrades from their deepening gloom.  
  
"Must we speak of that? How I weary of telling the story of my own death!" Glorfindel growled tersely.  
  
"Oh! I did not mean… that is I understand if you do not wish to discuss it!" Legolas stumbled out his startled reply.  
  
"Never mind, Thranduilion," said Galdor shortly and then everyone fell silent.  
  
Legolas sighed and rose to stroll about their site, gazing upon the clouded heavens and breaking into quiet song, as was his habit.  
  
"Stop that, you may as well shout at the top of your lungs and announce the presence of elves!" snapped Glorfindel irritably and glared at the strong, lithe back just within range of the fire's flickering orange light.  
  
Legolas ceased at once and darted into lightless obscurity, for he was affronted by such harsh words when he had done nothing to earn them. "I will scout the area again, but I am certain we are not within sight, sound, or scent of any Orcs," he called over his shoulder as he ran.  
  
"Glorfindel! That was terribly rude of you and I believe you injured his feelings!" admonished Galdor. "How could you be so cold? It is not his fault if he is not what you expect him to be."  
  
"Aye, aye, your correction is well deserved. I will apologise as soon as he returns. It is just so very unfair, Galdor; I had so hoped it was he."  
  
"I see this, mellonen (my friend), but remember Elrond's caution to you. This elf is above all else Thranduil's son. Do your best to make amends and befriend him, even as you promised."  
  
Now unbeknown to these two mighty heroes of Gondolin, the Wood Elf did own many unique gifts, among them his sharp ears and his stealthy ways. Who could blame him for wishing to know what was at the bottom of the change in their manner toward him and utilising both those abilities to gain that knowledge? Unfortunately, though he was standing not three metres from them in the deep of the shadows and heard all, he was none the wiser as to his predicament. He waited to hear if they would continue, but nothing further was spoken for many minutes and at last he sighed and came forward into the light.  
  
"All is secure; nothing moves but the usual small, nocturnal animals and their predators," he said quietly and sat apart from the other two.  
  
"How do you know that if you cannot see any better in the dark than us?" demanded Glorfindel, irked once more as soon as the elf returned to them yet unable to stifle the thin hope his words offered.  
  
Galdor groaned and shook his head.  
  
"I am a Wood Elf," retorted Legolas angrily and stood again. "I can hear them and I can smell them. Some things smell better than others do and some sounds are easier to listen to. This camp, for instance, is not pleasant to either sense. I believe I will share company with the horses. Excuse me."  
  
With that he was gone and they only knew his whereabouts from the shifting strains of sombre chanting as his sorrowful voice sang away his distress.  
  
"Valar, have you lost your wits?" hissed Galdor. "You act as though he has done you some wrong, when we both know this is not the case!"  
  
"I cannot help it! The situation is intolerable, Galdor, for here is this elf, this Legolas, alive and bright and fair, while my Legolas yet remains in Mandos' hallowed halls," moaned Glorfindel. "It is wrong for him to be Legolas and yet not be my Legolas!"  
  
Galdor realised now the source of his friend's anger. It was easier to feel this rage than examine his guilty heart. Glorfindel was attracted to the Wood Elf and felt he was betraying his lover, and had turned the emotions outward on the object of his interest. The First Age hero, however, felt it might be for the best if Glorfindel could find happiness with someone else, given the situation regarding his Legolas' end.  
  
He decided that he had to reveal the truth to his old friend, or risk a permanent estrangement between the realms of Imladris and Mirkwood. With the silvan's solemn song as accompaniment, the Lord of the Tree explained the fate of his cousin and then held his dear friend as he wept through the remainder of Ithil's hours.  
  
At dawn, the namesake of that doomed elf was once more first ready and stood waiting beside his steed, not singing, not speaking and very grim, when the older two approached. He had come to the conclusion that he must put all else aside and concentrate on the mission entrusted to him, lest he fail once more and further shame his father. Legolas did not even look at them as he mounted up and followed their lead.  
  
All day long they rode in this uncomfortable silence for Glorfindel had not apologised. He was too sunk in his renewed misery over the shock of his lover's end to think much of the Wood Elf. And when he did chance to find his eyes upon the youth his heart surged not with remorse but with cold fury. It was if the Valar mocked him by presenting this substitute Legolas.  
  
Legolas gave no indication he was even aware of the others' presence.  
  
As for Galdor, he was cursing himself for suggesting this mission. If they should encounter real trouble, he knew not how these two would react. Glorfindel was so overcome with his grief that he was unaware of anything else, while Legolas was so angry he was focused single-mindedly on the Balrog Slayer.  
  
Or so it appeared.  
  
At twilight the trio had finally reached the rocky shoulders of the first straggling peaks and once more sought a fitting place to camp. They decided not to light a fire and settled on a flat ledge, except for Legolas who would not sit with the other two. Saying no words he left his horse with the Gondolindrim and disappeared into the hazy half-light. The moon had risen in a clear and starry sky when quite suddenly he leaped into their midst and startled them badly.  
  
"We must hurry!" he whispered. "A small band of Orcs approaches from over the mountainside, just beyond this ridge."  
  
"I suppose you can smell them?" Glorfindel jeered and Legolas drew back as if struck.  
  
He did not say anything more, but sent Galdor a look of warning as he went to his stallion. Muttering in the horse's ear too quietly for the warriors to understand his words, Legolas and the animal then parted. The Wood Elf once more melted into the pitchy air as his steed raced away with sufficient clattering and commotion to draw attention.  
  
The warriors of the First Age crept along the ridge, following the general direction of the silvan, but came upon no sign of him. Before they had crested the rim, a loud tumult of stamping feet and coarse shouting arose below and to the east, and they could faintly descry the horse leading the Orcs on a merry chase.  
  
Right into the ambush of the woodland archer.  
  
Soon the foul demons realised their error as three fell almost at once, dead, with elvish arrows buried deep in their black and twisted hearts. In a maddened rush they stormed Legolas' suspected position and before they drew back three more fell. Those yet breathing suddenly decided the elf's aim was too keen and turned to flee.  
  
And met the menacing gleam of elvish steel in the hands of Glorfindel and Galdor, Lords of the City of Singing Stones.  
  
It took mere minutes for these inveterate fighters to dispatch such meagre opponents and then they cautiously returned to their encampment, where they found Legolas grooming his horse and praising the doughty stallion for proving so fine a decoy.  
  
"Hail, Thranduilion! That was well done and quite clever. However did you train your mount to perform such a trick?" Galdor said with goodwill and smiled.  
  
"It is not a trick and I suppose we were trained together if such interdependence may thus be termed. We are comrades, friends," he replied. He turned to face Glorfindel and then did a most surprising thing, at least to the two Gondolindrim. "I do not know how I have offended you, Lord Glorfindel, but I wish to beg forgiveness. I did not mean to engage in arguing and insults, and I regret my hastily spoken angry words." He waited expectantly for some response, but none was forthcoming. With a deep sigh and slumping shoulders he hurried away into the veil of impenetrable murk.  
  
"Ai! What is the matter with you?" shouted Galdor and swatted his friend soundly on the side of the head. "He has tried to reach out to you and still you shun him! Glorfindel, you are going to cause a war between Imladris and Mirkwood if you do not find your honour and exercise it!"  
  
"Peace, Galdor, I was just wrought beyond the power of the tongue by his gallant act," the Balrog Slayer pleaded. "I cannot find him in the dark nor track his silent footfalls, but I swear to you I will explain everything to him when next he returns. Elrond was right; I should have spoken plainly to him."  
  
"What if he does not return?" demanded Galdor, for he had just realised the Wood Elf's worthy steed was no longer in the camp either.  
  
"But he must, Galdor, for it is him!" Glorfindel said in alarm and paced back and forth.  
  
"Manwë's Wind, I will not go through this again! He is not your Legolas!"  
  
"He shot those Orcs down without Anor's aid, Galdor, his aim was flawless! He is my Legolas and I will have him remember me!"  
  
"Oh, he will remember you, no doubt! What he will recall is your coldness and your cutting tone, your leering gaze and sneering contempt! That is what he will think on when he hears the name Glorfindel!"  
  
"How can you deny that he must be your cousin reborn? Can you offer me any logical explanation for how he was able to shoot those fiends while I can scarcely make out the features of your face an arm's length away?"  
  
"Nay, he cannot, but I shall be glad to do so if you will tell me what this is all about," said the voice of the silvan prince from right behind the squabbling soldiers, and they both jumped.  
  
The Gondolindrim were silent for a few seconds as Legolas stepped close enough for them to see him. He gazed sorrowfully at Glorfindel.  
  
"I overheard you discussing me in Imladris; this I admit. It was not intentional and I made my presence known at once, as you both know. Yet it seemed to me that you were…interested in me," he said. "I thought it was me you argued over, but I hear now that I was wrong."  
  
"I shall leave you two to sort this out. Please excuse me, and feel confident that my hearing is no more than normally perceptive, " stammered Galdor as he sought to extricate himself from the pair.  
  
"I find that I have no trouble avoiding eavesdropping when singing, my Lord," hinted Legolas.  
  
The Lord of the House of the Tree stared open mouthed a moment and then laughed aloud as he departed, bursting into a rather bawdy tune he had learned from some sea elves in Lindon many centuries past. This made both his companions grin in spite of the tension between them, which of course Galdor had intended. When the drop in volume indicated he had attained a polite distance from them, Glorfindel cleared his throat.  
  
"I do wish to offer my humble apologies, and affirm that you have done nothing to warrant forgiveness from me, or the coldness so suddenly directed to you," he began.  
  
"You are right, we were talking about you, and yet not. I hoped you to be someone I have known and loved before and to me this did not appear as unlikely as Galdor found it. He tried to caution me, but I would not listen. Even now, I find the concept not impossible.  
  
"Tell me that you could not see those Orcs and I will call you a liar! You do possess night vision, you must! Are you not indeed Legolas of the House of the Tree and Galdor's cousin, reborn? Are you not my Legolas, whom I have loved and longed for over more centuries than I care to recall?" he reached out and clasped the Wood Elf's hands, searching his eyes with desperate hope.  
  
But Legolas' heart sank and he felt horribly embarrassed. Of course the famous Glorfindel of Gondolin was not attracted to him. He had been drawn by the name alone. Why on Arda would he have imagined this renowned elda would want anything to do with a Wood Elf of unremarkable repute, unable even to keep hold of a gangrel creature at Mithrandir's behest? He dropped his head and pulled his hands away, wrapping his arms around his body as if chilled.  
  
"I could see them, that is true," he explained. "But it is not because I have eyes like a cat. It is a bright night, according to my reckoning. Under the eaves of the forest, seldom is the moon this white or the stars so clear. I have learned to aim and shoot by sound as much as by sight. I can mark an Orc by the noise of its breathing alone. And in this level of light, I rarely would miss."  
  
Legolas finished speaking and glanced up only to find Glorfindel downcast and morose, and the silvan knew his words were accepted as truth. The elf Lord's disappointment was evident and Legolas felt his own heart contract, sorrowing for the elda's loss and his own, for who would not wish to be so loved?  
  
"I am truly sorry," he whispered, "but I am not your Legolas," and turned to vanish into the gloom.  
  
"Not yet!" Glorfindel said and refused to let him slip away.  
  
   
  
The End.  



End file.
